


home is where the heart is

by archieknight



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Recovery, Soft Boys, all that jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archieknight/pseuds/archieknight





	home is where the heart is

Comfort was a language Neil was not versed in, which is why it was easy for him to understand that comfort was not always hands on shoulders and tight embraces. Neil quickly understood that comfort was space inbetween; not edging around him awkwardly, but just sitting next to him in silence. A foot or two between them, close enough for Andrew to anchor himself on Neil's steady breaths. 

Andrew's biggest annoyance was when people saw him like a specimen. It was why he never liked any of his therapists (save Bee), why he covered his forearms, why he never showed vulnerability. Neil had seen his vulnerable side, but never perceived him as fragile or weak, or looked at him differently. Never. Neil looked into his eyes like he was seeing into his soul. And once Andrew let his walls down around Neil, that became less unnerving, and became a comfort. The stern calmness of Neil's eyes focused Andrew when he needed it, when he needed Neil to be strong.

Neil always knew what Andrew needed.

It was a warm night wrapped carelessly in sheets, alone in Andrew's room in Columbia. Andrew was hunched with his back pressed against the cold wall, sleeping deeply with his arm pressed against his face. It scrunched up his cheeks and his nose into a comically scowling look. Neil smiled warmly at the sight when he awoke briefly. His eyelids were urging him to go back to sleep, but he left the loose light from the hallway illuminate Andrew's face. His hair was mussed forward over his face, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. 

He noticed Andrew twitch slightly, a jerk of his eyelid. This continued and Neil realized Andrew was dreaming. Neil noticed his face move in reaction to his dream, his eyebrows knitted in confusion and lips flutter. He paused for a moment, content to watch Andrew's lips mumble wordlessly, before he realized he was stuttering P sounds that he hoped meant anything but please.

Neil glanced down to see Andrew's hands shaking then pushing down onto the mattress in efforts to stabilize his tremors. "Andrew," he shocked himself with how loud his voice was in contrast to the quiet early hours of the morning. He repeated himself in the same rigid tone, "Andrew, wake up." He knew better than to shake Andrew awake, having seen the consequences painted purple on Nicky's eyelids. So he relented at speaking to his sleeping boyfriend, echoing his name until he woke up.

His forearms pushed in front of his face in protection as he writhed, awake now. "Hey hey," his tone softened slightly, still steady, "it's Neil, you're safe. Look at me."

Shuddering behind his arms, Andrew muttered unintelligibly into the bedsheet. "Look around, you're in your room, in the house. You're safe, Andrew. Look up." 

Andrew pulled his arms down sharply, eyes glazed over and fearful. He nodded in understanding, before he shuffled himself up to glanced around the room. First searching for danger, then grounding himself. He noted the clothes on the floor and two mugs on the windowsill, the windows and doors were shut. His eyes turned to Neil, then he lifted a hand to Neil's face firmly. Neil turned and gently pressed a kiss to his palm, "I'm here," he smiled. 

After he let his hand fall, he twitched it, unsure of what to do with it now. Noting this, Neil stretched over the bed and pulled his jeans up from the floor to tug out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He passed both object to the other man, who pulled out a cigarette and lit it like second nature. His breathing slowed over the smoke, eyes closing trustfully as he exhaled. 

Neil lit his own and sat back against the headboard. He let his it burn away in his hand, not bothered with it. A silence fell, but both boys were focusing on microscopic, distant sounds. Like the car starting up across the street, whistling wind between houses and, nearer, the sizzling sound of burning tobacco as Andrew inhaled. They stayed like this until Andrew had stumped out his cigarette and turned to Neil.

The blanket was still strewn across Andrew's legs, hair still messy but eyes wide awake, "what's the time?" He asked casually.

Neil grabbed his phone from the bedside table, blinded by the screen temporarily before replying, "4:53am. Coffee?"

Andrew hummed, stretching. Neil hopped off the bed to pick up a pair of sweatpants from the floor and throw them to Andrew, who nodded in thanks. He pulled the sweatpants on, then threw a jumper over his torso. Neil covered his top half with a baggy Foxes hoodie before the couple stumbled into the kitchen. Immediately, Neil set to making the coffee. He added countless spoons of sugar and no milk to Andrew's, before making his like a normal human being. 

There was an easy, casual way Neil walked around Andrew that he wasn't used to. People either feared him or pitied him, tip-toeing in a 2 metre radius to him. Neil didn't touch him, but moved so naturally that Andrew was never worried that he would, without asking. They were refreshingly comfortable around eachother, so their nights alone in Columbia were a dream, a blessing. 

He handed to mug to Andrew, who sat at the dining table, staring bored and blank into endless space. He took the cup without looking away, wrapping his hands around it. From years of violence, Andrew had enough broken enough knuckles to last lifetimes. The bones felt a chill too quick due to the damage.

Andrew Minyard was a force of nature; a black cloud staring from the back of the room, or rain punching down on windows, or lightning down Neil's throat. As stubborn as the earth, as violent as fire. Violence was ingrained in him from the get-go. But tonight he was quietened to a low rumble of thunder. 

"Should I go?" Neil asked, not content with leaving Andrew alone, but concerned it's what he needed.

Andrew shook his head, "sit down with me." Neil walked around to place himself next to Andrew, sipping on his own coffee slowly. The world slowed beautifully, the pulsing that roared in their ears slowed until silence. "Did I wake you?" Andrew asked, quietened.

"No, I was already waking up," Neil explained as yawned. 

Andrew bit his lip, "it's like you knew." He only whispered it, so Neil must have taken that as a hint not to respond. Neil knew when to be strong for Andrew, like a safety net ready to catch him when his ground was crumbling beneath him. He knew Andrew didn't need him, he already had a parachute in this metaphor, but he was there anyway. 

Eventually, the sun comes up, and Andrew smooths back over the cracks of his weakness. As the city woke up, it wasn't just Neil there to see him vulnerable- it was time they got dressed and went back to the Fox Tower. Andrew leaned back and stretched, a complaining groan pushing through his gritted teeth instead of a yawn.

"Thank you," Andrew said, definite and sincere.

"I didn't do anything," Neil replied, picking up the mugs after them and abandoning them in the sink. 

Andrew locked eyes with him and raised both eyebrows to say, "exactly." He rested a hand in Neil's fluffed, auburn hair. A warm smile was shared between them, before Andrew pressed a soft kiss to Neil's lips. He was still smiling stupidly when Andrew kissed him, and it was contagious. "Wipe that grin of your face, Josten."

"It's just-" he chuckled, "your morning hair is just-"

"Says you," Andrew said, brushing through Neil's hair mockingly. He pushed the tangled mess of hair off Neil's forehead, revealing the freckled mess of his face. "I'm hungry when does Sweetie's open?" He changed the topic swiftly as he grabbed the discarded clothes from around the house.

Neil padded after him to gather the rest of their belongings, the simple domesticity of the act was left unsaid but they both relished in the calmness of it. Nowhere Andrew had ever stayed felt like home, now his home came with him wherever he went. His home rode passenger seat all the way back to the Fox Tower. His home gave him all the shelter and comfort he'd ever need.


End file.
